Shore Leave
by dragonflybeach
Summary: Fifteen year old Dean gets caught sneaking back in - at 6 pm. It's not what his dad thinks.


John heard his oldest son singing as he approached the motel room, belting out "The Joker" at the top of his lungs.

He also heard the singing stop abruptly as Dean rounded the corner of the building and saw his father's car.

Dean hesitated so long that John was about to get up and go see what he was doing when he heard the car door slam and then the door opened.

"Dad?" Dean asked hesitantly. "I wasn't expecting ... "

"Obviously!" John thundered. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Dad, hold still." Sam said softly, looking a little queasy as he mopped at the blood on John's arm.

"I ... uh ... " Dean stammered, backing up against the door.

"What were you doing?" John continued, as Sam still tried to clean the blood off his arm.

"Nothing!" Dean squeaked.

"Nothing?" John pushed Sam aside and stood to his feet. "You were doing _nothing?_ That's why you left your brother alone all day? _Nothing_ is why I was about to have to let Sam stitch me up, since you weren't here?"

He stepped closer to his son who looked down at his feet.

"I'm ... I'm sorry." Dean stammered.

John glanced back at his younger son, who stood by the bed bewildered, with a bloody washcloth in one hand and a bottle of peroxide in the other.

"Sam!" He snapped, and the boy jerked to attention. "Your brother stashed something in the car on his way in. Go see if you can find out what it was."

"Yes sir!" Sam said, rushing toward the door.

He apparently realized both of his hands were full about the time he reached the door, so he put the rag and the bottle down on top on the AC unit under the door. Dean stepped aside without being asked to let Sam out.

John took the two steps to close the distance to his older son, grabbing Dean's chin and tilting the boy's face toward him.

"Did you take something?" he demanded, even while his senses told him that Dean's eyes were clear, he didn't seem impaired, and there was no smell of alcohol or marijuana smoke on him.

"No sir." Dean answered, wide eyed.

"You'd better tell me the truth son!" John yelled. "I'll drag your ass to Dr. Robert and he'll tell me what's in your system. It'll be a lot better on you if you tell me first."

"Nothing, I swear!" Dean said. "I haven't even had a beer today."

John released the boy and stood back. "What then? You were off with some girl?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "It was just ... it was nothing."

John grabbed the rag and bottle of peroxide. "Go wash your hands. Let's get my arm stitched up and then you can do pushups until you decide to tell me."

He sat down heavily on the bed, pulling away the rest of his shredded shirt. Dean went to the sink. The car door slammed outside, and the room door banged open just as Dean turned off the water.

"Found it!" Sam shouted, flaunting a flat white paper bag. "It was under the seat."

"What is it?" John asked with a sideways glance at his older son, whose shoulders had slumped all over again. "A magazine?"

"No, it's a picture." Sam answered.

"A picture of what?" John looked over at Dean again. "Some girl?"

"No, it's a picture of Captain Kirk." Sam said.

"A picture of Captain Kirk." John repeated, positive he had misunderstood.

"An autographed picture of Captain Kirk." Sam announced, pulling the item from the bag.

Yes, it was in fact an 8x10 photo of William Shatner in his Star Trek uniform, signed in bold black pen.

"How'd you get an autographed picture of Captain Kirk?" Sam asked Dean.

"Um, well, they were having a Star Trek convention in Dallas, so I took the bus ... " Dean began, his face flushed.

"You sneaked out to go to a Star Trek convention?" John asked, certain he must be missing a punchline somewhere.

"Well, when would I have ever had another chance to meet Captain Kirk?" Dean shrugged. "We've never been anywhere close to one before."

"You didn't take me?" Sam cried, his face a mixture of awe and outrage. "I watch Star Trek _and_ TJ Hooker!"

John looked from one son to the other, and he couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled up and spilled out, until he fell backwards onto the bed and laughed until tears ran down his face and gathered in his ears.

By the time he calmed down, Dean was apologizing to Sam, whose bottom lip was poked out and face contorted into his classic 'I'll never forgive you' expression.

"Dean." John wheezed, and tamped down another round of chuckles. "Come stitch me up and then we'll get a pizza and you can tell us about the convention."

"Dad!" Sam's pout transformed into a look of horror. "Gross! No! Your arm looks like a pizza!"

John pointed at the flyers on the nightstand between the beds. "You figure out something else to eat, we'll talk about it."

"You're not mad?" Dean asked approaching his father hesitantly.

"I'm not happy." John nodded. "You could have asked me about this first instead of sneaking out and leaving your brother alone all day."

"But you would have said no, that we didn't need to spend the money." Dean said.

"And it's easier to get forgiveness than permission." John rolled his eyes. "You are your mother's child."

"Really?" Dean smiled shyly.

"Oh yeah." John pulled him closer and handed him the peroxide. "She liked Star Trek too."


End file.
